Part 6 (1/2)

Sutekh glanced over at his father. ”No.”

”No what? You didn't start school?”

”No.”

”What?” Genevieve's voice grew serious. ”Why not? Didn't your father take you to school? I can't believe this. You should be starting school. You're going to be behind already. Let me speak to your father.”

Sutekh shook his head. He looked over at his father, who was watching him. ”No. It's okay, Aunt Gen. Right? I don't want to go so much.”

”Well, of course you don't, but that's just because it's something new. Once you try it you'll like it fine. And anyway, you have to go. It's not a choice. Let me speak to your father.”

Sutekh turned toward the wall. ”I have a book-”

”Sutekh, honey,” Genevieve said, her voice both gentle and commanding, ”put Eldon on.”

The boy turned back to his father and held the phone out toward him. The corners of Eldon's lips dipped, but he grasped the phone. ”Yeah?”

Sutekh walked back to the kitchen table and sat down, book balanced on his knees.

”Gen . . . I'm taking him. You just don't know how things are. It's not easy . . . He's been coming to work with me . . .” He listened for some time. He nodded, and when he spoke his voice had softened. ”I don't know. It's just been these last nine months. I'll take him, but sometimes I'm afraid to have him out of my sight. Other times . . .” He ran a hand up over his hair. ”Other times I just don't know. Anyway, f.u.c.k it, Gen,” he said, not angrily, but with an exasperated sigh. ”I'm hanging up now. You should watch what you ask for. Some day I might drop him on your doorstep for good.” He hung up the phone and stood leaning against the wall for a few moments, one hand in a fist that slowly rapped against the wall.

He turned around.

Sutekh didn't look up at him, but said softly, ”I just said I had a book.”

Sutekh's bedroom was a small s.p.a.ce, cluttered by articles of clothing, toys, and books. A single bed ran the length of the wall, its crumpled bedspread trailing across the floor. The walls were painted a thick, innocuous yellow, and were bare except for a poster of the Earth viewed from s.p.a.ce and a calendar featuring football players frozen in motion. The room's one window opened onto the wall of the next row house, just below an opposing window.

Sutekh walked in, clothed in light blue pajamas, his bare feet padding lightly across the hardwood tiles. He tossed his book down on the floor and stood still in the center of the room. His eyes drifted up to the window across the alley. The light was on, and a person's vague shadow moved across the scarlet and gold curtains.

He took a few steps toward his bed, then jumped as he approached it, landing with a bounce on the mattress. The jostling of the mattress and sheets tossed several objects into the air: two Star Trek action figures, a miniature automobile, a small bra.s.s elephant figurine. The boy picked up the Star Trek figures and stood them face-to-face with each other, controlling their arms with his fingers. One figure gently touched the other on the forehead. Suddenly they began to wrestle, their bodies pushed clumsily together. Then Sutekh picked up the elephant and tilted it upward. A faint sound escaped his lips, a high-pitched, somewhat horse-like whine.

”You call that an elephant roar?” Eldon asked. He stood leaning against the doorframe.

Sutekh stopped moving. The bra.s.s figurine fell from his fingers.

”That's no elephant roar. That sounded like a mouse roar or something.” He entered the room and sat down on the corner of the bed. He placed a hand on Sutekh's back.

The boy didn't move, his eyes fixed on a wrinkle in the blanket.

”If I was an elephant, I'd roar like this . . .” He let out a roar, a guttural cry that went from low pitched to higher pitched, ending with an expulsion of air somewhere between a laugh and a cough. ”Well, something like that.” He swiped in the air with a hand. ”Something like that . . .”

The humor with which he had just spoken faded quickly, his expression changing to one of exhaustion. The bags below his eyes were more p.r.o.nounced than usual, with a bluish tint to them. His gaze drifted around the room, over his son's back and shoulders. He moved his hand from Sutekh's back to his head and stroked his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was limp, each word falling heavily from his lips. ”Have you ever seen an elephant? You never have, have you?” He stretched out on the bed beside his son.

Sutekh squirmed away a few inches and rolled over on his side, facing his father. The man's breath carried the stale scent of alcohol and onions.

”I went to see the elephants with your mom, at the circus,” he said. ”She didn't like the circus, but she liked the elephants. She talked about Hannibal and how he rode elephants across the mountains and fought the Romans. That must've been something . . . Anita could tell such good stories. I'll tell you about Hannibal sometime. But I can't tell it as good as her. I can't do anything as good as her.” Eldon exhaled a long breath and looked past Sutekh at the wall. He closed his eyes and inhaled. ”Sutekh, your dad's going crazy,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. ”He's going crazy, and he doesn't know what to do.” With his eyes still closed, he reached out and felt for his son.

Sutekh moved back a little, but let his father grasp him around the arm. The man's fingers were firm in their grip, but still gentle. The boy watched his father's face, the lines around his mouth, the flutter of his eyelids, the movement of his lips.

”She shouldn't have gone. You didn't have to, Anita. You didn't . . .” He pulled Sutekh close to him. ”I would have fought the snakes with you. I wouldn't have let them get you, never. We could have fought anything together. That's all I ever wanted. To fight back the world with you. To make a place for us.”

Eldon opened his eyes and liquid burst forth from both of them, lingering momentarily on the rim of his eyelids, then sliding over the bridge of his nose, down his cheek, and falling onto Sutekh's head, which the man held under his chin. He closed his eyes again and rubbed Sutekh with comforting gestures, his hand making gentle circles on the small of his back. He said, ”Shhh,” softly, as if it were the boy who was crying. ”Shhh.” It was only very gradually that his own body began to move, that his comforting gestures became caresses, and he began to rub the boy's body against his own.

Eldon drove the car slowly down Frederick Avenue, a quiet street of lumpy asphalt, shaded by tall gum trees and an occasional pine. Sitting among the trees were houses of varying sizes and designs. Some had the aged look of antebellum estates, with large porches and fold-out windows. Others were modern structures, small houses of simple geometry, in pastel shades of light blue and mint green, with plaster s.h.i.+ngles and fake shutters. They sat quietly among the trees, with the silence of a ghost town. Behind the houses on the right, the surface of a small harbor sparkled with the auburn shades of the setting sun.

”Hey, little man, remember you stayed down here last summer?” Eldon asked. ”You do a lot of fis.h.i.+ng then?”

Sutekh slipped his seat belt underneath his arm and pressed his face close to the car window. His eyes floated slowly over each object they pa.s.sed, lingering on the wake left by a slow moving boat in the harbor, following the flight of a flock of ducks. The houses to the west momentarily thinned out, and the glow of the sun lit Sutekh's face. He watched his image reflected in the gla.s.s and saw his lips move. ”Some,” he said.

”Yeah, that's your granddad,” Eldon said. ”I guess he's got to do something with himself. I don't know why it's fis.h.i.+ng, though. I never really liked fis.h.i.+ng that much. Maybe it was the getting up early.” He reached up and turned the rearview mirror toward his face. He looked at himself, drew his lips back from his teeth. ”Your granddad will probably complain that I'm depriving you by not taking you fis.h.i.+ng and stuff. I don't know if I would know how anymore.” He moved the mirror back to its original place. ”Like fis.h.i.+ng really matters.”

Eldon slowed the car down and pulled over in front of a small, single-level house. ”Here we are.” He turned off the car and reached into the backseat for a duffel bag. ”Go on, get out.”

Sutekh untangled himself from his seat belt and climbed out of the car. He stood on the concrete walkway and looked at the house. It looked back silently, a white, flat-faced facade, with two front windows set on either side of the door. The three steps leading up to the door stuck out like a protruding tongue. There was a light on near one of the windows, it cast a corrugated glow through the blinds. The only noticeable decorations were the three plaster kittens that clung to the roof's green s.h.i.+ngles.

”Come on.” Eldon nudged Sutekh forward.

Just as he began walking, the front door opened and his grandmother, Rosella, appeared silhouetted within the door frame. ”Sutekh! Come here to your grandmother,” she said. She pushed open the screen door and extended her arms toward him.

Sutekh walked steadily up the pathway, the stairs, and, when he reached her, was engulfed by her arms, pressed into her torso. She took his face within her two hands and looked at him for a long moment. Her face was pale and covered with delicate wrinkles. Her cheeks had the soft quality of half-baked dough, and her eyes were a deep brown, flecked with bits of yellow. She kissed him on the forehead.

”It's so good to see you. Every time I see you you've grown a few inches.” She backed up and motioned for them to enter. ”Hi, Eldon. Come on in. I've just about got dinner ready.”

The interior of the house was cluttered with furniture: a couch, numerous chairs and endtables, and lamps. The walls were littered with plaques and awards from various clubs and organizations, framed photographs, and several aged needlework pieces. Each flat surface was occupied by something, an ashtray or magazines, wooden figurines and other items, the various knickknacks collected over a lifetime. The television was on, tuned to the news, and the scent of fried chicken was thick in the air.

”No dinner for me, thanks,” Eldon said. ”I'll just drop Sutekh off and get going.”

”You sure?” Rosella asked. She leaned forward when she spoke, and furrowed her brow with a look of concern. ”Your father isn't home yet, but he should be any minute. He just went to the store.”

”Yeah.” Eldon plopped the duffel bag down in a chair. ”I have to meet someone in a little bit.”

He looked from his mother to Sutekh, puffed up his cheeks and exhaled. ”Hey, Sutekh, what do you say I just take off? Your grandmother will take care of you. All right?”

Sutekh sat down on a chair in the living room. He looked back at his father and shrugged. ”All right.”

Eldon's eyes flicked up to Rosella. She was watching the boy, her head tilted slightly to the side, her face fixed in a smile. ”Okay,” he said. ”Um . . . So what, I'll be back Sunday night?”

”Sure,” Rosella said. ”Whenever. We'll be here.”

”Okay. See ya, Sutekh. Have fun, right? Remember what I told you.” He walked back to the front door and paused there a moment, looked back. Rosella watched him. ”Okay,” he said. ”Bye.”

”Bye, Eldon. We'll look for you on Sunday.”

He stepped outside and shut the door behind him.

Rosella turned back to Sutekh. ”I'm making your favorite-fried chicken for dinner. I should go check it. I'll just be a minute.” She shuffled from the room toward the kitchen.

Sutekh turned and looked through the blinds, out the window. His father stood next to the car, saying something to Norman, Sutekh's grandfather, who had just pulled into the driveway. Norman held a grocery bag to his chest with one arm. He walked around the front of his car, as Eldon walked to the driver's side of his. They got no closer than this, and after exchanging a few words that Sutekh couldn't hear, Eldon waved and Norman turned toward the house.

Sutekh released the blinds when he heard Norman open the door. They snapped back into place.